I’m completely blaming my niece for this, by the way. And my chocoholic hubby. I’d put the girlies to bed and my 20-month-old was hanging with Daddy, and my fabulous almost-17-year-old niece called and asked me for the recipe for Chocolate Pudding Cake. (This goes by many names, by the way…my in-laws call it Hot Fudge Sundae Cake.) I don’t use the recipe we had growing up–I think I copied it down wrong, because I never could get it to come out right–so I gave her this Chocolate Cobbler version, which is more or less the same thing. And then my hubby, who’s been sick all weekend and has just gotten his appetite back, thought it sounded kind of good, so while the 20-month-old mooched pizza off of Daddy like a champ, I popped this surprisingly lowfat concoction into the oven. And then the boy went to bed, and there was warm, gooey chocolate goodness and cold, soft vanilla creaminess to be had. Mmmmmmmm.
(By the way, come to think of it, I might not have actually copied the recipe down wrong. I spent a decade wondering why the things I baked growing up never came out quite right anymore before it finally dawned on me that going from sea level to over 4,000 feet above sea level might just have something to do with it.)
I should really feel more guilty about stuffing myself so badly, because I just don’t bounce back in an hour or two the way I used to! On the other hand, I got one less hour of sleep last night, and I had a child with digestive issues at my bedside at 4:30 this morning (not to mention a Diaper of Doom just before bedtime, which meant Daddy (who has a bad back) got to read stories to the girlies while I got to bathe a boy an hour early in what little hot water his sisters left him), so I’m just not going to judge myself too harshly. And to be honest with you, I wouldn’t have eaten so much to begin with except that the one downside to this recipe is the timing. It is AMAZING right out of the oven. You put whipped cream or vanilla ice cream on top and you’re in heaven. The day after, on the other hand? Meh. It’s not BAD, really, but it’s a pale shadow of the amazing goodness it once was. (A warning, by the way. Pay attention to the self-rising flour thing. If you don’t have any–and I never do–the substitution is listed and simple, but you do have to do it. If, say, you’re pregnant and craving this and your husband makes it but doesn’t notice that part of the recipe, well…let’s just say it doesn’t end well. Or terribly edibly. Which should really be a word.)
(Incidentally, I should report that my upping bedtime incrementally all week long paid off. The girls did well. The boy, well…he’s having bedtime issues at the moment. The but-I-was-having-fun-why-do-I-have-to-go-to-bed kind of issues. He’s getting better, though.)
Of course, eating too much is one thing. Staying up too late after the night we had is quite another…and on that note, it’s off to bed for me.